Forget Them All
by JinxedSydney
Summary: "Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all." The memory of his voice in her ear bowed her chin to her chest. Her fingers flexed on the window casing.
1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, I found this image and it sparked a little story in my mind.

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"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all." The memory of his voice in her ear bowed her chin to her chest. Her fingers flexed on the window casing. "Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown-up things again." Somewhere in the house below, Fitzsimmons' booming laughter latched its grown-up claws of matrimony into her mind.

"Peter," she whispered to the clear London sky, "Please come save me. I am so sorry." Wendy didn't dare shed a tear from the corner of her eye—her mother would chastise her for ruining her rouge.

"Wendy." John's warbling voice, caught between child and adult, called from the dark room behind her. "They are asking for you. I'm not sure I can..."

"Wendy Darling! Come away from that window at once!" The room flooded with light when their mother flicked the switch on her bee-line path. "You are freezing and are going to put a crease in that dress." Mrs. Darling turned Wendy by her shoulders away from the starlight and examined her daughter. "Why do you keep Mr. Fitzsimmons waiting, Wendy? This is a exceptional match and he's a wonderful man."

A sigh escaped Wendy. "Yes, Mother. He is wonderful. I...I just needed a moment alone before I head into the grown-up world." She glanced at John over Mother's shoulder, who pushed up the glasses up the bridge of his nose. His gaze shifted somewhere behind her, out of the window. Wendy knew he was looking for the second star to the right.

"It's not like this is a death sentence, dear. It's just marriage." Her mother's nervous titter did nothing to soothe Wendy's anguished soul. Mrs. Darling tucked a stray curl behind Wendy's ear. "You look lovely. Let's go back downstairs now before your father comes up."

Wendy tucked her arm into her mother's elbow and lifted her chin. She didn't want to grow up yet, washed in regret of always delaying one more adventure. It had been foolish to think Peter would come back for her. She had no good reason why he should become a grown-up, made to work a job and wear suits. No, Peter would look silly with his hair smoothed down, curls smashed into submission. Still...he would look awfully handsome in a pinstripe standing by her side; his pocket kerchief dyed to match her fancy peach, satin dress. Wendy touched the pearls at her neck. Peter would have traded with the mermaids for them, not bought them from a jeweler.

Downstairs once more, she was deposited at her fiancé's side. As required by duty and politeness, Wendy remained silent while the men yammered on about politics. She stifled a yawn and shifted from one foot to the next, keeping a veiled observation on her father as he scrutinized her every move.

Out of the corner of her eye, a streak of white and red disappeared underneath the tablecloth. Moving with matched speed, John positioned himself behind the table. Wendy watched him sink below the edge to try and talk Michael from his favorite retreat—he must've escaped the nanny again.

"Excuse me. I need a glass of punch." Half relieved, Wendy was likewise annoyed Fitzsimmons hadn't offered to retrieve her beverage. With a dramatic swish of satin, she angled her body towards the animated lace tablecloth.

"You need to come out before Father finds you." Wendy recognized the tone in John's voice. It was the same one he had when she had told him she had accepted Fitzsimmons' proposal, equal parts a warning and desperate plea to reconsider.

"I don't care if he finds me," whispered the void beneath the cucumber sandwiches.

Wendy poked Michael with the tip of her shoe. "You will when he breaks your bow and arrows as punishment." He slept with his favorite toys when their mother let him.

Heaving a frustrated huff, Michael crawled out from his hiding spot. His white knuckles gripped tight around his prized possessions.

"Good boy, Michael." Wendy moved next to her brothers and pulled her fingers through Michael's tousled hair. "Be a lad and go back to Nanny before Mother figures out you've escaped again."

"Nanny is a bore!"

She and John both chuckled. "She is," John agreed. "But you are only ten and it is well past your bedtime." He tugged the ever-present watch from his waistcoat to confirm the time.

"Bedtime is a bore unless Wendy tells me a story." Michael turned his blue eyes up to Wendy.

"Goodness me, Michael. I haven't told you a story in a long time."

His lip jutted out. "I know."

Across the room, Wendy saw their father access his three children before taking a step in their direction. "You must go now, Michael." Wendy pushed his lithe body towards the kitchen. "I will be up as soon as I can to tell you a story. I promise, but you need to go now." A glance over her shoulder revealed Father had been mercifully stopped my Mrs. Turner.

"About Neverland?"

Wendy turned back to her siblings. John's brown eyes never wavered from her. Was it really five years ago Peter had whispered into her ear? And here she was, stuck at her own engagement party to a man she barely knew and certainly didn't love or even have adventures with.

She leaned down and gathered Michael into her arms to keep her tears at bay. "Of course it'll be a story of Neverland. Those are the best and only kind of stories you should hear."

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Please jump over to tumblr and look up droo216 - specifically his Peter Pan boards. They are nothing short of mesmerizing and the inspiration for my latest fascination.

No idea where this lovely diversion will take me, but away we go! ~JS


	2. Chapter 2

She hummed as her fingers loosened the tiny buttons from their tight loops between her shoulder blades. Pausing in the row at her ribs, Wendy reached up and released her chignon from its pins. She groaned in appreciation as her blonde curls pooled around her neck. Returning to the buttons, she soon dropped the peach satin dress into a smooth puddle at her bare feet. She smoothed her silk slip straight, not bothering to hang the expensive dress. Her eyes adjusted to the shadowy room, her pale reflection an ashen shade of blue from the moon slipping by the open window. Goosebumps sprang up across both of her arms as a breeze rustled the curtains.

The guests had left long ago. Each congratulations, every wish for good luck thrusting her closer to becoming a married woman. When Fitzsimmons left, his lips brushed hers. She had reached up to stroke his cheek, to ignite the feeling her friends whispered about behind rose bushes. Fitzsimmons had taken her advance and pulled her in close, pressing their bodies together.

"Darling," he breathed before taking her lips again, demanding her attention.

Wendy closed her eyes, desperate to feel something other than his mustache tickling her nose. Finally, she experienced gratefulness when he relaxed his hold on her waist. "Goodnight, Gerald." A practiced batting of her eyelashes and she fled to her darkened room to escape the gnawing dread.

One hundred strokes with the silver brush were completed before Wendy paced to the window, perching on the white-washed casing while she braided her hair.

"Your mother would tell you that you will catch a cold."

Wendy's arms froze, her braid forgotten. That voice… _his_ voice came from somewhere in her own room. She lifted her chin slightly, dismissing her imagination. Peter would never come back for her. He would despise her for growing up.

"But you always sleep with the window open, don't you, Wendy? Even when the winds are howling, you use that notch to keep it open for me."

Her finger drifted to the hole in the sill. She swiveled her head towards Peter's voice, unable to discern any shapes in the fleeting moonlight. "I…I never wanted you to be locked out."

"Such a chap." His voice bounced off the ceiling near her bed.

"But you never came."

"You never asked until tonight. You only told the boys stories. I heard them. You're a swell storyteller, Wendy." His hushed voice moved closer until the tip of his leather moccasin revealed itself near her dresser.

Wendy clung onto her rope of hair as Peter stepped closer still, his leggings, then jersey, washed colorless in the moonlight. He left his face in the high shadows on the wall. She could feel her breathing speed up, her hands shaking no matter how tightly she flexed her knuckles.

"Won't you come closer, Peter?" Her voice betrayed her, sounding small and childish.

"You've grown-up, Wendy," he accused. "You told me you didn't want to grow up and you did it anyways."

Jumping up and rushing towards him, Wendy felt her tears spill over. "I wanted to grow up at first, Peter, but now I don't! I've made a terrible mistake and grew up when I wanted more adventures. I still want to see Tiger Lily again, to apologize for being so mean to her. And Tinkerbell, too." She touched the edge of the dresser, straining to see his face in the darkness.

Peter stepped into the last of the pale light, his boyish face unmistakably etched with annoyance. No stubble of chin hair or mustache graced his smooth skin and his ginger hair still flopped to one side. He was everything she remembered when she was thirteen.

"You are still a boy!"

"Of course I'm still a boy! I wasn't the one to grow up."

Wendy stretched her hand to stroke his smooth cheek. "I always thought…I'd always dreamed we'd grow up together, that you would be my age."

His eyes narrowed. "I was the one who wanted you to forget them all and stay with me. We could've played all day and stayed up as long as we wanted."

"Yes," she whispered, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "If I could do it all again, I would've stayed with you and the boys."

"It's too late for that now, Wendy."

"I know, Peter. I have grown-up and ruined it all. I have to get married soon." She twisted the ring on her finger to position the offensive diamond towards her palm.

"That's awful!" He shook his head. "You shouldn't have to get married. It doesn't sound like much fun at all."

She chuckled. "I'm sure it would be fun if I were marrying someone I lov…someone who has fun and adventures."

"We could have fun and adventures."

She stepped closer, noticing his head was no taller than her shoulder. "But we can't because I grew up and you didn't, Peter."

"I could grow up for you, Wendy. Then you could come home to Neverland."

Wendy's breath caught in her throat at the lovely thought of flying away. She looked at the boy before her. "You can't grow up, silly. You live in Neverland and you will never grow up there."

"Pixies have magic. I would grow up for you, if you wanted me to."

"My dear Peter, I would like nothing more than for you to grow up and take me back to Neverland." She sighed and leaned down so their eyes were level. "But I'd like to give you a kiss before you leave this time. For if you ever return again, I will be an old lady."

He shoved out his fist, unfurling his fingers to reveal her thimble. "I have a kiss from you already, Wendy. But I will grow up for you. Just give me a few days. I'm sure there are special ingredients the pixies need."

"If you could grow up, Peter, I'd never leave you." Before her courage faded, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

When they parted moments later, she heard the sharp intake of his breath. "What was that for?" he whispered.

"It was for me, Peter. I have always wanted to kiss you, just once, and so I have." She shivered, suddenly chilled through and through. Wendy turned and grabbed her shawl at the end of her bed. "I will never forget it, as long as I live," she admitted, her back to the boy in her dreams.

A rush of wind swirled her slip around her ankles and she knew, without looking, Peter was gone. Wendy crawled under her quilt and rued the day she had decided to become a grown-up.

Because it was a very grown-up broken heart aching in her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

To those who posted reviews, thank you! FFN is being weird and although it shows reviews, I cannot see them. I'll be updating randomly, as I have time to write, but enjoy this chapter for now! ~JS

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Wendy pried her eyes open to the sound of Michael tromping down the stairs, whooping a war cry. She lay still, her gaze traveling to the open window. Grey clouds crowded the skyline, the impending rain harmonized with her mood.

She pulled on her housecoat and tied the sash. A flash caught her off guard and she pried Fitzsimmons' ring off, dropping it onto the dresser. It wobbled and rolled behind her hair powder. Wendy rubbed at the mark on her finger and left the ring there. Methodically, she brushed her hair, refusing to look at her reflection—the miserable grown-up who had refused Peter Pan and Neverland. She set the brush down...at least she would always have her kiss.

As she descended the staircase, John begged their feathered brother to slow down. "Come now, Michael. Sit down. Let's eat so we can go to the park." He glanced up at Wendy as she arrived in the dining room, his face imploring her to help.

"Let's eat, boys," she sighed.

"I want to hear more about the Indians and Tiger Lily." Michael ran a tight circle around the table, knocking his hands against each chair.

"Sit!" Wendy's terse command stopped the ten-year-old, his eyes wide at her sharp words. "Please, Michael, my head hurts and I have to go to a fitting later."

John herded their younger sibling into a nearby chair. "Make sure you have everything you need," he suggested, with a curt nod of his head towards her naked ring finger.

Wendy pulled her hand under the table as she sat. She wouldn't tell them about Peter's visit. It would upset them to know he had come and she had made him angry enough to leave without saying hello to them. It was enough to be disappointed in herself.

As swiftly as breakfast was finished, Mother hurried Wendy to get dressed. She was rushed off to the wedding dress fitting with Aunt Josephine. To Wendy's horror, the older women baited and teased her about her lack of excitement, interpreting her silence as nervousness for the wedding night. The thought of a wedding night with Fitzsimmons made Wendy's stomach churn. When she turned for the last time for the seamstress, everyone declaring the fit perfect, Wendy couldn't help but think Peter would think the dress silly because it would get dirty.

One day morphed into the next, nights marched one after the other, filled with parties and social engagements. Wendy smiled when she should and nodded when she ought. She slipped on her ring before she left the house and tossed it to the bureau when she returned. No matter the weather, she left both windows flung wide open, hoping Peter would return.

Fitzsimmons delivered her home a week after the engagement party, two weeks before their wedding. He'd whisked her off to an opera and paraded her around during intermission, showing off her ring to anyone who mentioned their impending matrimony. He devoured her lips when their carriage stopped. Wendy tried to extract herself from his grasp.

"I simply cannot wait until you are mine, Mrs. Fitzsimmons." His mustache smelled of stale beer.

"Miss Darling, still yet." She wrenched the door handle and flung the door wide. "I'm sorry, but I need to go inside before Father comes to investigate my delay."

"He knows I am a gentleman."

Wendy throttled her body out of the carriage. "Yes, as do I. Goodnight, Gerald." She practically ran to the front door, anxious to flee his advances. It had been a week and she was desperate to see if Peter would come back, even though she was sure he wouldn't. But she still believed in pixies and promises.

"Wendy." Her father's subdued voice came from the parlor as she closed the door. His cigar smoke stifled the air.

She waited for the sound of the carriage pulling away before entering the room. "Father. You are up rather late."

"It is my duty when my daughter is out late without a chaperone."

"Thank you, Father. I am tired. Goodnight" She just wanted to shed her clothing and fall into bed. Dreams waited for her—dreams of flying and Neverland.

"Goodnight."

Once in her room, Wendy saw the windows were shut. She flung her ring to the dresser in her haste to remedy the situation. Chilly air slammed her face once the latch slid aside. She closed her eyes and pulled off her gloves, dropping them to the floor. A strong breeze beckoned her towards the window sill. She sunk to her knees, eyelids still sealed, and rested her forehead on the cold casing. Peter was not coming. Even if he had, her window had been closed. She was too late…again.

Wendy jerked and her head banged against something solid. Her hand reached up to the back of her head and felt the wall behind it. Pressed against her cheek, the cold floorboard. She must have fallen asleep at the window and slid down to the floor.

"I didn't know that you liked to sleep on the ground."

The back of her head knocked into the wall again at the sound of a man's voice. She scrambled up, legs tangled in a web of petticoats. Wendy tugged at the hem to keep her ankles from showing. "Who are you?" A chunk of loose curls fell into her eyes.

"It took longer than a few days, Wendy."

"Peter?" She pushed the curls behind her ear and searched the blackened room for any hint of his whereabouts. "Oh Peter, where are you?" Her smile grew. He had come back for her!

"You won't know me." His voice was deeper. It had lost its pitch.

"I will always know you. You're my Peter—Peter Pan."

Peter sniffed in the darkness. "It wasn't much fun becoming a grown-up."

"I am sorry. Did it hurt much?"

"Yes. But I've had worse." His pride was bound in a masculine tone. "I am scared you won't like me now that I'm grown-up too."

Wendy laughed and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. He was still thirteen in his mind. "You are my best friend, Peter Pan. I will always like you. I am going to light the candle next to my bed now. Come sit next to me when you're ready."

Her hands shook when she struck a match to light the wick. Wendy tried to smooth her hair and dress, feeling ridiculous. How hard could it be being grow-ups together? Silence stalked her room. She knew he was watching, waiting.

To calm her nerves, she closed her eyes and hummed. Her fingers drifted up to remove the pins holding the rest of her hair in place. As she pulled the last pin free and her hair dropped to her shoulders, the mattress dipped at her side. Still, she continued her melody to completion, pulling her fingers through her curls. At the end of her song, her hands drifted to her lap.

When she gained the courage to open her eyes, Wendy watched Peter's large hand slide into hers.


	4. Chapter 4

The tips of his fingers curled over the top of her own, leaving his thumb to trace her veins on the back of her hand. Cautious and gentle, his thumb whisked over her sensitive skin. In the flickering light, Wendy could just make out the dirt under his thumbnail. Her eyes traveled up to his wrist. The sight of the wiry red hair on his forearm flooded her cheeks with warmth. She'd never seen any man, other than John, with bare arms—it bordered the line of impropriety.

"I daresay...my hands are bigger than yours now." His rumbling voice sounded near her shoulder before pulled his hand from hers and splayed it on her lap.

Wendy looked back at their hands. She stretched out her fingers beside his lumpy knuckles. "Much bigger now, Peter," she whispered. She could feel the heat from his palm even through her petticoat and it made her heartbeat race.

"Just don't look at me yet. Even Tink took a while and she's the one who helped me. Boy, was she mad when I asked!"

His juvenile words in masculine tenor made Wendy giggle.

"Oh, hardy har-har," he said, shifting closer on the bed. They were nearly touching sides now. "You try having an angry fairy buzzing your head, shoving pixie dust inot your mouth. It took me _hours_ to explain everything to her. She's so stubborn." Peter huffed hard enough to swing Wendy's hair from her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. I really didn't think you'd go through with it, but I'm glad you did."

"Well, I told you I would and I don't break my promises." She imagined his face, indignant at her unfaithfulness. He probably had his eyebrows drawn together and looked a bit fussy.

Peter flipped his hand over on her lap, palm up and scooched it underneath Wendy's. She mirrored his movement, showcasing the difference in their hands: his calloused and creased in dirt, hers lithe and supple.

"We will need to leave soon. I don't want to be trapped here as a grown-up. The fairies only gave me until morning to bring you back."

"Oh." Her eyes still on their hands, Wendy's heart galloped faster still.

"You said you would come back to Neverland with me if I grew up, Wendy."

"I did."

"So pack up your stuff and let's go then."

Wendy curled her hand into a ball in the palm of Peter's hand. She would never have to be alone with Fitzsimmons again or fear Father's displeasure at her actions. Mother would never her about her waistline. She would miss seeing Nibs, Curly and the boys during holiday from the school Aunt Millicent had sent them to board, for they still had a lot of catching up to do. Michael's war cries would never interrupt her thoughts. And John…

"Peter, do you have your hat?" The last word fell flat from Wendy's lips, as she turned towards him with her idea. She found herself eye level with his lips and glanced up to the loveliest pair of green eyes she'd ever seen, shining in the candlelight. "Oh, hello," her breathless words tumbled out.

His grin tipped up the corners of his eyes. Shadows danced across freckles scattered from the tip of his nose across the entirety of his face. Suddenly, the ginger eyebrows furrowed. "I'm ugly, aren't I? Tink said so."

"No. I…I…I wouldn't say that." Wendy slapped her mouth closed before she blurted out his handsomeness. Gathering her thoughts, she smiled. "You're just Peter, only bigger." She reached up and pushed the floppy red hair from his forehead.

"Oh good. I would hate to be hideous. Here's my hat." Wendy looked down as Peter dropped his wadded up hat onto her lap. "It's too small now, anyways. What do you need it for?"

She plucked the red feather from the band. "I need to let John know where I'll be and that I'm alright."

When Wendy stood up, Peter popped up next to her. "I am taller than you now, too," he crowed in a whisper, stretching his neck even though he stood a half-a-head taller than her.

"Yes, but you're still a boy in there." Wendy poked his temple with the tip of her finger. "Now be quiet. I have to sneak into John's room."

"I am good at sneaking, Wendy."

She sized him up. "You cannot sneak as a grown-up. You must wait here for me." Wendy moved towards the door before Peter could respond. She turned and pressed a finger to her lips as a reminder to the boy in his brand-new, grown-up body.

Slinking down the hall, avoiding the creaking floorboards, Wendy let herself into John's room. His window was pushed open and tears sprang to her eyes. John snorted and turned over. Surely, he would understand. She tucked the feather into the top right corner of his dressing mirror. Eventually, he would see it and know she was safe…and happy. As an afterthought, she swiped the top hat perched above the feather before she fled back to her bedroom.

Peter sat cross-legged on her bed, bouncing his oversized frame. "I'm hurrying," she whispered, wrenching a small suitcase from the closet.

"Not too heavy!"

In went her sewing kit and unmentionables. Shoes, in case she ever needed them. Jewelry to trade with the Indians and in case Peter needed to be ransomed from the pirates. Her hairbrush, pins and ribbons nestled below a couple of folded dresses. Fitzsimmons' ring tucked into the side pocket—Tinkerbell would love the sparkling diamond.

"I feel like I'm missing something." Wendy murmured, fastening the clasps on her case, holding John's hat against the handle.

"Forget them, Wendy." Peter's quiet words brushed against her ear. His body grazed hers from behind. Goosebumps shot down her arms. "Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown-up things again."

Wendy turned and slipped her hand into his, relishing the warmth emanating from his skin. "I'm ready to go. Take me home to Neverland, Peter."

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 _Hurray! FFN seems to have fixed its problems (for now). Thank you to those who have taken the time to leave reviews. I've just rewatched the movie and will be working in a few details. Ta-ta for now! ~JS_


	5. Chapter 5

"The candle!" Wendy yanked her hand from Peter's before she trotted to the bedside table. She extinguished the flame with a puff of air. "I most certainly would not want to burn down the house in my absence."

She turned back to the window and her eyes widened. Peter had stepped onto the window casing, his very, _very_ grown-up body now silhouetted in the waning moonlight. He turned towards her and squinted into the darkness.

"Wendy? Let's go." His bare chest, which had seemed perfectly normal at thirteen, now made her brain riot.

Wendy slammed her eyes shut. She repeated to herself that he was still a boy under those improperly exposed muscles. He didn't know any better. "I'm coming," she said, slipping back to the window. She stomach felt strange when she placed her hand back into his once more. "Won't I need pixie dust?"

"I almost forgot!" Peter grabbed a pouch at his waist. "Since you're a grown-up now, you need more pixie dust than before."

He tipped the pouch over her head. Wendy waited for the glitter to shower her head, her shoulders. Her mind was already entrenched in happy thoughts of Neverland and Peter.

Still, her slippered feet refused to rise from the carpet. "Am I doing something wrong, Peter?"

"It's different as a grown-up. I had to think a lot of happy thoughts. Tink reminded me that grown-up's aren't meant to fly to Neverland, so it's harder."

Wendy couldn't help but notice Peter's feet had levitated from the window frame. He drifted just outside of her room, as he had done five years before.

"What are your happy thoughts?" She stepped onto the ledge, balancing her bag and Michael's hat.

Peter's skin, shadowed by a tree, started to glow. His skin grew quite pink and radiant, yet he refused to answer her question. "You have to think of your own happy thoughts, Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

She smiled widely. He had never said her full name before. It sounded lovely. He had really come back for her!

"And there you go!" His grin mirrored her own just before she floated out of the window. Peter's grip tightened around her fingers. "Will you tell me your happy thoughts?"

"I will not," she muttered. Her skin burned with embarrassment. She could never admit to Peter that he was her happy thoughts, right down to the way his Adam's apple bobbled up and down when he smiled.

Ever upwards they flew. "Do you remember the way?" He glanced over his bare shoulder.

"Second star to the right, straight on 'til morning. I could never forget." She had raised her voice over the rushing wind as they passed over the Thames.

"Come on, then!" Peter thread his fingers into hers and tugged her forward, urging her faster. "We have to speed up." He was yelling at her through the clouds now. "It may hurt a little."

His words made Wendy squeeze their fingers even harder. Her body felt heavy.

Peter was suddenly face to face with her, his eyebrows pulled together. "What's wrong?"

Wendy dropped her eyes to her feet, slippers dangling in the starry void. "I'm scared."

"Scared of a little pain? It's like scratching your arm on a branch. You fight with swords! You can't be frightened of a scratch."

"I haven't held a sword in ever so long."

Peter lifted her chin with his free hand. "Do you trust me?"

"What a silly question! I am holding your hand far above the Earth and you ask me if I trust you? You _are_ , indeed, a silly boy."

He blew out a short breath. "I am _not_ a boy. I am a man now." He pulled his shoulders back.

Wendy felt her blush blossom across both cheeks. "Yes, yes, I know. Let's just get to Neverland. Floating here makes me nervous."

"It's going to pinch a bit." They were moving again.

"Alright."

"Have you ever had ants bite you?" Faster and faster.

"No!"

"Well, try to imagine little ants biting you all over. But it'll be over so quick, you won't even remember it!"

Wendy concentrated on the feel of his fingers as fire lit through her body, her veins searing. Her eyes burned, her legs wanted to melt. "Peter!"

"Almost there, Wendy! Hold on!"

Still, molten wax wound its way around her neck, squashing her windpipe. Her toes scorched. If she was to die, Wendy was happy it would be with Peter, holding his hand. A parched smile touched her lips before she plunged into darkness.

* * *

Wendy jolted awake from a slap of water to her face as her body spun round and round and round and round. Head heavy and dizzy, she forced her eyelids open to see clouds spiraling passed her eyes. When she tried to move her arms, she found them pinned to her sides. She was tucked into Peter's arms…and they were falling from the sky!

"Peter! Oh, Peter, wake up!" Wendy frantically rocked back and forth to stir him from unconsciousness as they plummeted through sloppy, grey clouds.

His eyelids blinked once, then twice, and his green eyes rolled down.

"Peter! Wake up! We are falling!"

Wendy craned her neck and saw the jungle below, coming nearer by the second. When she looked back to Peter, he was still blinking, eyes void. She raised her lips to his to try and get him to focus on something…anything.

Peter jerked his head back, eyes on Wendy, before looking beyond her at the rushing foliage.

"I think this may hurt!" he yelled. Peter pulled her face to his neck just as the branches whipped against her feet. Her slippers ripped off and she screamed as her legs were sliced open.

They slammed into a wet pile of leaves and branches—Peter moaning on his back and Wendy whimpering into his side.

"Wendy…I think I've died."


	6. Chapter 6

Every part of Wendy's body ached. Still, she took a shaky breath before she answered. "You haven't died, Peter."

"I feel like I am dead." He groaned and loosened his hold around her waist.

"No. We've just fallen from the sky," she said.

While Peter had relaxed his grip, Wendy still felt the weight of his palm on her hip. Her left calf stung. She pushed herself to sit up, awkwardly splaying her fingers on his naked chest, as it was the only place she could put her hand for leverage. The minute she could sit unassisted, she snatched her hand into her lap. The lower part of her dress, so beautiful just hours before at the opera, was shredded into ribbons and chunks of blue muslin. Below the mess of material, blood stained her petticoats. She pulled in a sharp breath when she wigged her toes.

Peter propped himself up on one elbow with a moan. "Are you sure we haven't died? It hurts everywhere."

Wendy chuckled, feeling pain radiate from her ribcage. "I'm quite certain we are alive."

"Good. We still have grown-up adventures to have. And you need to learn to swordfight again." His words came in pants, broken by agonizing sounds as he strained to sit next to her.

Just as Wendy gained her bearings and looked at the drooping vines and leaves, she was knocked into Peter's side, clamping her arms around his torso to keep from falling flat again. Her cheek landed with a smack into his collarbone and she could smell the forest on his skin.

"Tink!"

Wendy was grateful Peter didn't seem to notice her disentangling her limbs from his body. Her cheeks burned when her brain appreciated his physique.

"Yeah, I'm glad we made it back too." His fairy perched on a nearby limb, radiating glitter as she shook her miniature finger at him. "We used up all your pixie dust. Wendy fell asleep just before we got here. Boy, Tink, it sure hurt coming through. All of the sudden, it hurt too much and then I woke up because…" His voice trailed off and he looked towards Wendy. His green eyes darted to her lips. "And then we landed here."

Tinkerbell flitted up near his head and then whizzed through the canopy and out of sight.

"She's going to get the Boys to bring us some water and bandages for your leg."

Wendy's gaze returned from Tinkerbell's path, the light and glimmer fading, to Peter. He stared at her. In the daylight of Neverland, his freckles were darker, his eyes brighter. Even his hair, dark auburn in candlelight before, was a nice ginger. His smile caught her off guard. "Haven't you ever seen a grown-up before, Wendy?"

"Ah, yes." She cleared her throat and tried to shift to a more appropriate distance between their bodies, despite the fact that she wanted to lean closer to kiss those lips again. Thank goodness he couldn't hear her sprinting heartbeat. "I've just never seen a Peter Pan all grown-up."

"The Boys haven't seen me either. I'm afraid they will not want me for their father anymore."

"How many new Boys do you have?" A more benign topic would surely stop her stomach from feeling all melted.

"Only Bean, Boo and Squishy."

"Rather peculiar names." Her calf pulsed and throbbed. She struggled to keep her voice even. "I can't wait to meet them." Despite her efforts, she hissed in pain through her teeth.

"Let me help you." Peter rocked forward onto his knees, his own discomfort visible on his face.

Whatever protest Wendy might have had dissolved the moment he tentatively peeled back the petticoat and brushed her calf with his warm fingers. Her objections didn't even bubble to the surface as she watched his nimble fingers pluck debris from her leg. The peculiar warm feeling growing in her body seemed to push the pain away. In fact, she was enjoying Peter's careful ministrations when he slowed his movements to a halt.

He held his breath—his eyes looked at her wounds but his ears concentrated on the forest around them. "You can come out, Tiger Lily." Wendy jumped when Peter called out to the foliage.

The shadows faded and grew, leaves lifted and fell. Wendy strained to see the princess among the shifting darkness. Had the fierce girl grown into a beautiful warrior?

"Come out already." Beside her, Peter huffed impatiently. "Fine, we are going. Don't follow us. We don't want to play with you if you're not going to be nice." Peter stood and offered his hand to Wendy.

"Tinkerbell told me you became a grown-up," came the response from the canopy above. "I couldn't believe you would do that. Even Hard-To-Hit laughed when I told him."

"Hard-To-Hit?" From the ground, Wendy twisted her head this way and that, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.

Peter snorted. "Her dumb big brother." The explanation seemed to spurn a new idea and Peter pulled his shoulders back to display his new, grown-up body. "Let's see Hard-To-Hit try and knock me down now."

"He can," echoed the shadows.

"Won't you come out so I can see you again?" Wendy summoned her most polite smile and broadcast it to the leaves above.

"You're old."

Wendy's smile faltered. "I've been gone for some time now." She shrank toward Peter's leg. "But I'm back now and I'd like us to be friends, if you would like."

A pregnant silence blanketed the clearing. Not even the Neverland creatures dared to breach the quiet.

"Let's go, Wendy." Peter leaned down and pulled Wendy up by both of her hands. "We will need to get you settled in for the night. We don't need friends like her." He jerked his head to his left.

Emerging from the ferns, the tiny form stood as tall as she could stretch. Her hair still hung in twin ebony braids down either shoulder, framing her girlish face. No smile twitched the corner of Tiger Lily's mouth—only a pair of hard, golden eyes glared at the pair.

"Well, hello," Wendy said. Tiger Lily was every bit the child Wendy had left five years before.

The little Indian set her bewitching eyes to Peter. "Why did you grow up?"

"What does it matter to you?" He swung his body towards the Chief's daughter. Wendy could see his fingers bouncing, balling into fists and releasing.

"When did you become a coward?"

Her words stilled Peter half a heartbeat before he turned and stalked into the undergrowth, leaving Wendy with Tiger Lily.

Wendy watched the jungle swallow him and become still again. "He's no coward." She knew he needed to be alone, but wanted to chase him all the same. Regardless, she looked back to the spiteful girl.

"So you say, but I say otherwise, Wendy-bird."

"Why do you hate him so?"

A malicious smile lifted Tiger Lily's lips and eyebrows. "You are a stupid girl." Her eyes narrowed. "I could never hate him."

"Why…you hate me? You haven't seen me in years!" Wendy backed until her suitcase bumped against her legs.

Tiger Lily slinked towards Wendy, stopping just out of arm's reach. Pupils shrunk to pinpoints in the mesmerizing golden irises, the Indian princess glowered. "You fly to Neverland and ruin things. When you were here before, you left and I was glad. Peter was glad. We were fine without you. And now you're back and he has become a grown-up. You made him what he hated."

Wendy's chest squeezed with Tiger Lily's accusations. "I…I didn't change him. He chose to become an adult." Her shaky voice mirrored her hands.

Tiger Lily scoffed. She turned on her moccasined heel and vanished into the forest in the opposite direction Peter had departed.

Heart crushed and alone in Neverland, Wendy sat back down, held John's hat to her chest and cried.


	7. Chapter 7

Had it been five minutes or an hour later? Wendy didn't know. Her legs tingled from sitting on the ground. All around her, the sounds of Neverland welcomed her back, but her head ached from crying, which led to sobs and ebbed into loneliness. Time was meaningless to the young woman left alone, with only her thoughts to betray her decision.

She heard Peter before she saw him—his clumsy man-body crashing through the undergrowth.

"Wendy! Wendy!" He steadily grew closer, howling in frustration when he landed with a thump nearby.

Still, Wendy didn't call out to him. He had abandoned her with a spiteful Indian princess. Left her alone…wounded even! No, she would make him come to her and apologize. Served him right. Sniffing her leftover self-pity into submission, Wendy pinched a bit of color into her cheeks and straightened her spine. She arranged the tattered scraps of her dress around her ankles.

"Oh come on." Peter's irritated comment came after a branch snapped, and he very nearly tumbled into the clearing. His face was bright pink, ginger hair fluffed in all directions, dispersed with bits of twigs and leaves.

Wendy straightened further still and refused to bolt forward at the sight of the gash across one of his arms. But try as she might, her chin wobbled as tears pooled again. As Peter approached, one halting step at a time, she was filled with equal parts to explode in anger and throw herself into his arms. Traitorous, fluttering heart. He stopped several feet away, eyeballing the direction Tiger Lily had come and departed.

"She left some time ago." Wendy's terse voice echoed in the canopy.

Peter jerked his head towards her. "I just ran to see if I could help Tink find the Boys."

"Do _not_ lie to me. You ran away because she called you a coward."

He looked anywhere except at Wendy, straining with faux concentration into the shadows. "I don't run away," he said, dismissively.

Her heart imploded. He didn't even care that he'd left her alone or what Tiger Lily had told her. The pressure built in her chest as tears spilled over. "Why did I come?" she mumbled, gathering the suitcase and hat while she stood.

"Where are you going?" Suddenly, Peter was there, hand pressing on hers, wrapped around the handle of her baggage.

"Home."

"You can't go home," he scoffed.

Wendy yanked her hand from his grasp. "Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, Peter Pan! You left me here alone with Tiger Lily. And let me tell you something." She took a step towards him again and shoved his bare chest with her free finger. "I came here to be with you, not to be deserted because you are a scared little boy, trapped in a grown-up body."

"I'm not a little boy!" He pushed into her finger.

"A man wouldn't abandon me in the middle of a forest."

"I didn't abandon you. I told you, I was going to find Tink and the boys!"

"And running away from Tiger Lily." Wendy huffed, the handle with all her might. "Did you know she is in love with you?" She cocked an eyebrow, anxious to see how Peter Pan dealt with the revelation.

His cheeks puffed out, eyebrows dropped together, soundlessly. The blush crept up his neck until he finally burst out, "What are you talking about?"

Wendy shifted from one foot to the other before answering. "She certainly has feelings for you, Peter. She made it very clear to me that I needed to return home." As she watched his eyes flick back and forth between her own, Wendy felt small and unnecessary. "I can't help but think she is correct. Neverland was my dream, not my life."

"No." He reached forward and gathered her to him. She felt one strong hand at her waist and the other holding her head to his collarbone. The tang of his sweat flooded her nose. Her eyes closed of their own accord. "I don't care about stupid Tiger Lily. You have to stay. We will have so many adventures." He buried his nose into her hair.

She sighed. It would be so easy to stay. It would be easier to return and go back to her life in London—Fitzgerald, Mother, Michael. The boys would be home for Christmas soon and would certainly have stories to tell. Perhaps Slighty had finally figured out a way to shimmy to the rooftops to watch the stars at night.

"I don't know what I want."

Peter reached down and scooped up her legs with one strong arm. Wendy threw her free arm around his neck so she didn't topple to the ground. Their faces stopped inches from the other, warm breaths tickling each other's lips. He had a mesmerizing ring of gold in the center of those dancing, green eyes.

"I will take you to the Boys. We will fix your leg. Then, we will make you dinner." He turned sideways and pulled them both into the jungle. "They haven't had a mother in so long, they may never let you go."

"Peter…" Wendy wasn't sure if it was hunger or his embrace that made her stomach ache.

"You can go home, if you want." He had ducked his head to avoid a branch and brushed their noses together. Peter stopped midstride. "I'd never keep you here if you wanted to go."

Wendy turned away. Maybe he missed the hot blush coloring her cheeks. "I'd like dinner."

"Good. Here comes Tink." The fairy buzzed the pair and darted back into the foliage. "The Boys are getting everything ready. Fish for dinner."

"I like fish."

"I know."


	8. Chapter 8

The nervous boys had presented their "Mother" with burnt fish and a posy of crushed flowers when she was ushered through the trap door. Bean, the oldest and short-legged leader of the trio pulled a soft fur blanket onto Wendy's lap as she ate while Boo, tiny and frail, bickered with Squish about which would brush their new mother's hair.

"I asked to brush it first!" Boo stamped his small foot, raising a puff of dust near the lop-sided table.

"But it's my brush," countered Squish, holding onto the brush with both pudgy hands, high above Boo's tangled brown mop. "You don't even brush your own hair and would probably hurt her."

Wendy cleared her throat. "How about you take turns? Boo, you can brush this side and Squish, you can have the other side." The pair lit up underneath the patches of dirt they'd tried to hastily scrub upon her arrival.

She settled onto the low chair and plucked out the remaining pins holding her hair up from the opera. Had she really only London hours ago? Did John find his feather yet? A quick shake and her hair unraveled down the length of her back.

"Oh Mother!" Bean's tone was reverent. Three pairs hands pawed at her curls, tenderly removing twigs and debris.

"Me first!" Boo snatched the brush and attacked the top of Wendy's head.

Wendy whimpered, but refused to rebuke the boy.

"Boo." Peter's low voice filled the small space, the single syllable swallowed by the dirt walls. He'd disappeared into another room when they'd arrived and now filled the doorway. "Be gentle with your Mother or she will leave."

"Sorry, Mother," Boo whispered. Wendy saw tears crowd the corner of his brown eyes when he slowly, ever so slowly, raised his shaking hand to start again.

"Why don't you start at the bottom and work your way up? I always find it helps make the tangles easier."

The tiniest Lost Boy smiled and nodded. He reminded her of Michael, the first time they'd visited Neverland. Wendy's eyes closed when Boo found his rhythm with the brush, strokes lengthening with each pass.

She was flying again, floating lazily above Neverland, drifting from cloud to cloud. She could see Hook's ship in a harbor far away. Smoke snaked upwards across the island; perhaps Tiger Lily was back among her people. Peter had to be nearby—she could smell him. Wendy tried to call but her lips were heavy, almost stuck together. Oh, her ankle still hurt. Had he left her again?

"Peter." She managed to push his name out as a whisper rather than something louder. She was so tired.

Wendy sucked in her breath as her eyes flew open. She had not been flying, but rather, carried and placed into bed by Peter. He was bent over face, pulling Bean's blanket to her chin. His eyes were dark, lit only by the candle somewhere across the room.

"You need to sleep."

"I am very tired."

"Go to sleep, then." His hand moved from the blanket, grazed her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You should get your wound cleaned." Wendy's eyes were already closed again.

"Go to bed. Tomorrow, we will have adventures." Peter's thumb caressed her eyebrow.

She sighed and leaned into his hand. "I should like that very much."

###

The whispers and muffled laughter cut through Wendy's sleep. Under the blanket, even the slightest movement of her leg caused her to clamp her teeth together. Gradually, she worked her way out of the warmth, lowering her feet to the grass mat on the floor. From high above, a shaft of light revealed the mottled purple and blue bruises around her ankle. She touched the swelling and screwed her face in agony, biting back a groan.

"You're awake."

Wendy, still folded over at the waist, cocked her head to the side to see through the curtain of brown curls.

Peter leaned to one side of the doorway. His torso was covered with a loose, dark green shirt, his legs wrapped in dark pants, barefoot. The red hair was smoothed down before he reached up to scratch a bit over his ear. "Good morning."

"Morning." Wendy straightened, keeping her ankle absolutely still. Yet, pain shot up her leg and she hissed.

"Boys," Peter called over his shoulder. Three small bodies crowded the remaining space in the doorway. "You'll need to gather two strong branches as big around as Squish's arms. Then, you'll need ten or so about as tall as Boo. Bean, get me lots of vine.

"What are we making, Peter?" Boo's small voice came from somewhere near the sheathed knife at Peter's waistline.

"Well if Wendy cannot go to the adventures on her own, we shall have to take her there. And since she cannot walk for now, we will pull her wherever we go." Peter never took his eyes off of Wendy as he spoke, despite being jostled from behind.

Like ravenous dogs after a thrown treat, the trio of boys shot out of the hideaway, hollering and ordering each other about.

Peter took a step and then another before he knelt and cradled her ankle. His fingers danced around the swelling and bruises. Wendy was torn between misery and bliss. No man had ever looked at her bare ankle, let alone touched it. The thought made her head spin.

"I…I'm sorry I'm a burden on my first day in Neverland." She had planned to offer to help make the travois, but her words stuck in her throat when Peter looked up from her foot to her face, just inches apart. "Your eyes are very hypnotizing." Her thoughts had passed her lips before she had time to think them through and she felt her blush flood her entire face. Wendy dropped her own eyes to his hands, still at her ankle.

"What does that mean?"

She chuckled. "I forgot, you are still a boy in there, only a week old as a man." Swallowing her timidity, she continued. "To hypnotize is to be caught in a spell, trapped—like a spider in a web. You cannot escape when you are hypnotized unless the person who hypnotized you allows it."

Dawning recognition spread with his smile. "Then I won't allow it."


	9. Chapter 9

In fact, I didn't abandon this story. I apologize for the delay. ~JS

* * *

Wendy didn't dare utter a complaint or wince in pain when the boys trotted next to her torturous chariot. She kept her smile plastered in place, the same one she used during intermission at the opera house.

"We're here!" Peter slowed to a stop and lowered the travois handles from either side of his waist to the ground. Tink dashed away. The trio of lads whooped and peeled off their shirts.

"What are you doing?" Wendy turned her face from the children as they got to work on their pants, her cheeks burning. They'd be naked in about fifteen seconds.

Peter chuckled as he sat down near her head. He lifted his chin towards the shrieks and laughter. "Jump in, boys. Make sure you scrub behind your ears, or Mother will do it later." He wiggled his auburn eyebrows. "And you don't want her to do that!"

She propped herself onto her elbows, careful not to turn to the direction of the splashing boys. One of their giggles sounded like Michael and Wendy couldn't stop herself from looking, to see if her youngest brother had somehow made it to Neverland.

"I'm sorry your brothers could not come this time."

Peter's words caused tears to prick her eyes. She watched the boys paddle in the lake, alternating between scrubbing, splashing and trying to drown each other—just like her brothers did at the stream outside of Aunt Millicent's country house.

"I will miss them most of all." She already wanted Michael to streak by, his feathered headpiece askew, chased by John, his eye patch in place and finger curled into a hook.

"Maybe you'll see them again."

Wendy turned back to Peter. He stared at her and she found she did not want to look away.

A smile crept up his lips. "Am I hypnotizing you?"

"I do believe you are."

"Mother!"

Wendy jerked her head towards the pool. Little Boo ran towards her, dripping water along the leaves from his naked body.

"Mother, I am clean now." He dropped his knees into the dirt beside her. Boo's tangled hair stuck to his face. He pulled his ears forward. "Even behind my ears."

"Very well," she managed to sputter. Behind her, Peter snickered and she batted at him with her hand. "Did you bring clean clothes to change into?"

Boo's tiny eyebrows pulled down. He looked to Peter and then back to Wendy. "I have my towel."

She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. "Wrap that around your waist. Peter will help you. Then you can wait for your brothers and go back for clothes."

Peter called the others from the water. They reluctantly dragged their equally bare bodies out and wrapped themselves in something that resembled more a blanket than a towel. Tinkerbell skipped across the surface like a stone, landing on Peter's shoulder.

"Off you go." Peter motioned for the boys to head back to the lair. "And bring back some of Mother's clothes too. She will need a bath."

Wendy pushed herself up so fast that she yelped in pain. "No!" The thought of their little hands digging through her unmentionables was horrifying.

Squish sauntered to her side. "It's warm enough today. You can walk back naked. We do it all the time, Mother." He scratched his bare belly without a care.

Her entire face felt like it was on fire. "Thank you, but no. I do not walk anywhere naked." She was eternally grateful she couldn't see Peter's expression, nor he hers.

"Why not? It's great fun." Bean swung a stick as a sword and connected with Squish's arm.

"Bean, do not hit your brother." Wendy struggled to come up with an answer that the boys understood and did not make her more embarrassed than she already was. "Mothers do not walk around naked. Perhaps Lost Boys did before, but now that you have a mother, you must wear towels when you get out of your bath." She couldn't believe she was calling a lake a bath. It was probably freezing cold and didn't even have walls.

"You can bring Mother a blanket and a towel for her hair, boys."

They scampered away, a miniature pack of wild things. When their sounds faded into the jungle canopy, Peter moved to offer Wendy his hand.

"That means it's your turn for a bath."

"No thank you." She'd rather fall into a volcano or have Hook walk around the corner than undress in front of Peter.

"Aw, Wendy. I'm not going to look. I'll sit right over here, with my back against the tree." He stalked over to the enormous tree in question and patted a patch of moss at its base. "See? That way in case somebody comes and attacks you, I'll be ready."

"Now, who would attack me, Peter?"

He motioned for her hand again. "I don't think Tiger Lily is too fond of you."

"But she would never attack me, would she?" Wendy placed her hand into his.

"Maybe." Peter tugged Wendy to her feet and nearly into his chest. "She's got an awfully big temper. Once, she set my shirt on fire for making fun of her necklace."

"Oh my." She smelled sweat and moss near his collarbone. "I didn't bring my soap." Her eyes shifted to the traces of dirt in the creases on his neck. It took a great deal of concentration to resist the urge to swipe her thumb against the grime.

"It's, ah, across the pond, in a little, um, satchel. So, um, you'll have to, uh, swim to it." His Adam's apple bobbed up, then down. "Sorry. It's always been over there." Peter's voice dropped and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Wendy found it hard to focus on anything but those lovely lips. "I should just…will you help me over there, please?"

Peter swept her up, his strong arms under her knees and across her back. He stepped to the edge of the water and lowered her feet to the ground again.

"I'll, uh, be right over there." Clearing his throat and looking down at their feet, he took a step toward the tree. "But I won't look or anything."

She giggled at his boyish admission. "Thank you." It was more genuine, more chivalrous than anything Fitzsimmons had ever attempted.

He disappeared behind the massive tree. Wendy looked around, certain someone was watching. She looked at her dress and inspected her nails. Surely, a bath could wait until she could find a more private location. There were too many shadows the Indian princess could lurk until Wendy was in a state of undress.

"Tinkerbell?"

Peter jumped from his guard post, hand on the knife at his hip. "What's wrong? Did you see anything?" His fairy twinkled and flitted at his shoulder.

"No, no, it's just…" Wendy wanted to have a proper bath with proper walls. "Can Tinkerbell just check around? Ever since you said something about Tiger Lily, I can't help but think the shadows are watching me."

In a flash, Tink glittered through the thick leaves and returned.

"All clear." Peter's hand remained on the hilt.

Wendy was out of excuses. She really did need a bath and to change into something clean.

"Okay, then." She blew a measured breath to try and calm down. "Off you go. Tink, you can stay if you'd like."

The fairy vigorously shook her head and ducked behind the tree with Peter.

With little regard to the pain shooting up her leg, Wendy shucked her dress and petticoat and waded into the water in her undergarments as quickly as she could limp.

"You okay?" Peter called from behind the tree.

"Yes, thank you." She dropped to her knees to the sandy bank to hide her body at the sound of his voice, She groaned from the pain. Wendy rolled to sit in the water to get off of her offended ankle.

"Wendy?"

She looked up and Peter had not only come out from behind the tree, but had his bare feet in the water.

"Go away!" Wendy propelled her reclining body into deeper water on her arms, like a backwards crab.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes! Please, Peter, turn around." The tepid water lapped at her collarbone before she stopped.

He took another step into the water.

"Peter, stop. Please." Her voice wavered. She could barely contain her humiliation as he stared at her uncovered shoulders.

He seemed to shake himself from the trance and nodded to the other bank. "The soap is over there. I'm just going to go sit back down."

Wendy watched until he resumed his post, with an exaggerated sigh. She pushed into the deeper water, eyes glued to Peter's tree.

When her feet dangled far beneath, she dropped underneath the water to wet her hair. She floated just below the surface, eyes open and ears immune to sound. Her hair floated all around like brown seaweed. Sunlight and greenery waved in blurred lines in the water above. Wendy stayed under until her lungs burned. She emerged, sputtering until she caught her breath.

Wiping the back of her hand against her eyes to clear the extra water, she shrieked and nearly sank again when a certain red-head bobbed several feet away.

"You're not drowned!" He was panting, eyes wide.

"Certainly not!"

"I thought you had drowned."

"I have not and now you must leave." Unlike herself, she could see Peter still had on his tunic.

His face screwed into a pout. "You're no fun."

"Not when I am indecent." She had a knack for blurting out words to Peter before she thought them through.

Peter's eyes dropped from her face and down her neck to the water line.

"Out." She didn't even dare raise her paddling arm, so she nodded back in the direction he had come.

He snorted and turned in the water, took a couple of strokes and then turned back.

"It's big enough for both of us, you know." In his eyes, though his features were older, he was a boy again. His words were without malice or intent.

Wendy sighed. She nearly caved—until a trickle of water dripped from the stubble on his chin and broke her daze.

"It isn't big enough today, Peter."

He took smooth strokes in the opposite direction. She forced herself to turn around in the water when she realized her jaw had gone slack as he climbed from the water. She enjoyed the view entirely too much.


	10. Chapter 10

"I miss flying."

Wendy had surfaced for air after rinsing the suds from her hair when Peter's voice drifted from high above. He balanced precariously on his back, at the fork of a giant limb over the small lake. Lacking both shoes and shirt, he was every bit a Lost Boy. His left hand wrapped around a smaller branch, while the right pulled off leaves, one by one, and let them flutter to the water below.

"Is it really so hard?" Wendy stared at his bare back, the way his muscles flexed and the crease of his spine. She wanted to run her fingers through the shock of dark red hair bouncing in the tree, messy and in need of a trim. It would be lovely to stare into the canopy beside him—perfectly scandalous without her corset and hair loosened.

Something scratched against her ear. A twig? Her body steadily rose from the water and she scrambled to grab a vine near the soap, snaking from the nearby tree into the water. It pulled from the dirt as Wendy frantically tried to stop floating higher.

 _Soap!_ She focused on the cream colored chunk and slid back into the water, legs flailing.

It really wasn't that hard to fly if your mind was happily occupied.

"Are you okay down there?" Peter tilted his head to the side, but kept his eyes away from Wendy.

She sunk to her neck in the water, wishing the boys would return with her towel. "Yes. I…I just grabbed at a vine and it came loose, that's all." She refused to look up again, no desire to fly half-naked through the trees.

A white flower landed near her head, bobbing in the water. Wendy gathered it to her. It was as large as her hand, the center as yellow as a jonquil in spring. She buried her nose and was rewarded with the smell of warmed honey.

"Thank you." Wendy angled her smile to the tree above.

Peter flipped onto his stomach, a devilish gleam in his eye. "I'd like to swim now."

"You may once the boys return with my towel."

"But, I'd like to swim _now_ , since I cannot seem to fly."

Wendy tucked the flower behind one ear. It was ludicrous to be arguing while submerged to her neck. "Fine. I will swim back to the tree and wait for the boys. That will give you plenty of room."

"What if I told you I cannot swim? That I'll drown when I fall from this branch?"

"You'd be lying. You swam to me just a bit ago." She started taking short strokes towards the opposite shore.

She didn't even have time to look up after the "Whoop!" before he cannonballed into the water just inches from her face. Wendy sputtered as water splashed her face.

Peter emerged to her right, grinning. "Come on!" He grabbed her hand underwater and towed her any direction except the tree she should be swimming toward. Tinkerbell flitted between the two, lighting the surface of the water with fairy dust just before it faded and sank.

"You're going to drown me, Peter. Let go of my hand."

"Only if you will race me to…that rock over there!" Her eyes followed his outstretched hand to a rocky ledge.

Wendy angled herself in the water so she was closer to the outcropping. "Let go and I will race you." She almost chuckled at his gullibility when he released her. "On your mark, get set—" She shoved both hands, full of water, at his face and then raced toward the rocks.

Peter hacked and coughed but was still close by, no matter how fast Wendy pulled through the water. She thought she might beat him until a cold hand clamped around her ankle and yanked her backwards.

"No fair!" she cried.

"Says the girl who cheated!" Their arms entwined, both laughing and desperate to win. "You have to get to the top of the rock to win!"

"Dirty cheater yourself." Wendy had somehow tousled her way to where the rock met the water.

He gripped her wrist until she twisted just right and freed herself, bolting from the water's edge, heedless to the pain shooting up from her ankle. Peter used his much longer legs to jump over her when she tripped on a vine and landed with and "oomph." He should have known better than to hesitate, because no sooner had he stopped to check on her, that Wendy pulled on his ankle, toppling him to the ground.

She shrieked when Peter's hands failed to keep hold of her legs as she hopped over him.

"You're like a snake!" He bounced up from the dirt and was able to finally grab hold of her hand as she stepped onto the rock.

"I did it! I won!" Wendy's lungs burned, but she was happy—unfathomably happy. She'd gone and beat Peter Pan in a race.

She reached out to pluck a leaf lodged near his ear. "I'm more filthy than I was before." Wendy laughed, turning her hand over one way and then the next, examining her arms at length until she froze.

She was dirty and dripping wet in nothing more than her undergarments in front of a very grown-up, bare chested Peter Pan, whose eyes were twinkling with mirth.

"Lucky for you, there's a bath right here," he whispered and took a step closer. His hands slid up both of her arms and surrounded her shoulders, warm and steady.

Wendy didn't look away from his face—the smattering of faint freckles stretching from one cheek to the other, the golden ring around each iris.

And then she was falling…quite literally. He launched them both into the air over the pond. She had barely enough time to squeeze her eyes closed and take a gulp of breath before smacking the water and sinking.

Peter pulled her to the surfaced and she gasped for fresh air, her toes brushing against his pants. He was laughing and apologizing, holding her arm so she didn't slide back underwater.

"That was ungentlemanly!"

"Well, I'm not a gentleman."

"You're a poor sport."

His eyebrows scrunched down. "What's that?"

"You don't like to lose."

"Of course I don't like to lose! Peter Pan never loses!"

Before Wendy had another opportunity to baptize him with a handful of water, Tinkerbell buzzed their head, swooping and banging into Peter's ear. He looked up to the rock where they had just stood and shifted his body, pushing Wendy behind him. She started to protest the way he pinned her in place to his back with one strong arm until she followed his gaze upwards.

High above, in little more than a gauzy shift, feathers tethered by leather laces swinging in the wind, and fierce black and turquoise war paint, Tiger Lily eyed the pair. Even Wendy could see the princess had, in some magical way, blossomed into a young woman through the transparent dress that left little to the imagination.

Wendy pressed herself flush against Peter and wound her arm around his chest as he paddled to keep them buoyant. Decency forgotten, she whispered his name, her breath trembling. Wendy had no doubt the beautiful Indian, hair undone and wild, was going to stake claim on the man she was wrapped around.

But Miss Wendy Moira Angela Darling had already won once in the day and would not lose her prize.

With every intention, Wendy raised an eyebrow at her foe. She put her lips at Peter's ear and lowered her voice. "Kiss me."

When he twisted to question her words, Wendy kissed him as if her life depended on it. For in that very moment, it did.


	11. Chapter 11

From the moment Peter streaked from the water, dripping and silent, until Wendy crawled into her bed, she'd become a pariah to him. He'd fled to the jungle after Tiger Lily disappeared and reappeared hours later, as Wendy placed wooden bowls of meat and something resembling potatoes onto the wobbly table. Peter's eyes never left the meal, while he ignored the dented spoon and scooped out the contents with his fingers. Once finished, he escaped the lair, knocking the door closed.

Her heart sank further and further into sadness when she tucked the Boys into their furs, side by side, kissing their temples. In the adjoining room, she blew out the candle, shed clothing down to her shift, got into bed and sniffed into her pillow. Who knew a kiss could make everything so wrong?

Wendy's fingers played with the bumpy pillow, remembering the contours of Peter's muscles. It was wrong of her to assume he felt the same strange sensation of possession. Tiger Lily's arrival, both majestic and indecent, had spurned Wendy's distrust—no, her jealousy. Her fingers tightened around the fur blanket. Tiger Lily had no right to use magic to grow up. Wendy had waited years to see Peter, to return to Neverland. The spiteful Indian princess could go find her own Lost Boy.

But Peter wasn't hers. Tears raced from Wendy's eyes and dripped off her nose. Only a few hours before, he had made it abundantly clear when he vanished without so much as an unfriendly "Hello."

The inky blackness of the hideout leeched into her mind. Surely he would return her to London, and the awful wedding. It served her right for acting like a wanton girl, with painted lips and plunging necklines to attract the hungry glances of men. It had just happened so quickly that she wished she could take it back and apologize. He must hate her to stay away all day.

The bed dipped down and Wendy gasped. She hadn't even heard anyone approach.

"Come with me." Peter's calloused hand traced down her bare arm and clutched her hand. He smelled like the green leaves in the jungle.

Her heart sputtered. "I just need my shawl, if you please," she whispered. She would not be taken home nearly naked, if that was his intent. Wendy bumped her free hand around in the dark, trying to avoid any part of Peter's body.

He let go of her hand and she was alone once more.

"Peter?" She sat up, pressing the fur to her chest.

A heavy fabric draped her shoulders just before his two hands pulled the corners forward. His fingers brushed her collarbone when he placed the corners of her shawl near her neck. Her skin danced with invisible fire. The moment Wendy caught the shawl with one hand, Peter grabbed the other and tugged her from bed. She ignored the dirt between her toes, carefully walking behind him in the darkness, unable to see anything.

They passed the soft snores and heavy breathing of the little ones. Wendy knew they were headed to the door and prayed the Boys would not be sad for too long without a Mother. At least they had a warm dinner and bedtime story.

Peter pulled Wendy along the lush grass once they were outside. Stars blinked overhead between moonlit clouds. A Neverland animal or bird purred from the canopy high above and dampness weighted the air. It smelled like rain was coming. It would help hide her tears. At least…at least she had Neverland again and would remember it when she needed to most—like an invisible treasure in her pocket of her mind.

They stopped. "Step on this. Be careful."

Wendy squinted and could barely make out a board or piece of wood. She inched forward, toes gripping the edge. Peter moved her hand to a rope and she grabbed ahold with the other hand. She squealed when the board lurched.

"Hold tight." His voice was clipped and terse. Even though his arms brushed against hers while the board lifted into the air as he pulled a rope, Peter seemed far, far away.

He huffed and strained, their platform swinging in the night, higher and higher, until the movement stopped. Reflected in the scarce moonlight, a dais stretched out at their feet between the forked branches of the enormous tree. Peter hopped out first and extended his hand to help Wendy out. Once both of her feet were on solid wood, he let go and walked to the furthest edge. He sat down, feet dangling.

All around, Neverland slept. Wendy pulled her shawl closer, near the tree trunk. Before she left, there was one thing she needed to do.

"Peter." She swallowed past the wobble in her voice. "I am sorry if I offended you this afternoon." There. If he didn't forgive her, at least she tried.

He patted the vacant space beside him. The boards echoed his slap. She slid forward, one cautious step at a time. Wendy lowered herself next to him, leaving enough space for tiny Boo to sit.

"I want adventures, Wendy." He hadn't spoke to her in such a long time that his baritone sent a race of goosebumps down the back of her neck. "I may look grown up, but inside, I still want to be a boy."

She bit the inside of her cheek and held it with her teeth. It helped keep her breathing even and the pain made the threat of tears retreat. It really had been a lovely time. It wasn't every day that one could sit in a tree house, legs suspended, in a nightgown.

"But I'm not a boy." Peter groaned and rolled onto his back. "I do not like Tiger Lily growing up and butting in on our adventures. But she is clever."

Wendy played with the loose ends of her shawl, heart careening inside her chest. More than anything in the world, she wanted to stay in Neverland, next to the boy-man at her side.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" He bolted upright and thrust his face towards hers. "Are you sick?"

"No," she murmured. "I do not want to say or do the wrong thing again. You were so angry with me today. I could not possibly endure your silence again." Her fingers threaded the fringe back and forth, working out the knots.

"Oh that?" Peter laughed. It echoed in the leaves above, a rich, full hoot. "I was just working things out in my head. I wasn't particularly mad at you. Although I was…"

Wendy turned toward him, their noses closer than she expected. "You were what?"

In the moonlight, he set his teeth and rolled his eyes. Lifting his chin, he resumed his previous position on his back, hands tucked behind his head. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does to me, Peter." Wendy twisted herself around. "Maybe I could help you sort out what is wrong. I have been an adult longer than you have." He probably didn't understand jealousy, and that would be difficult to explain. Thank goodness the night would hide her scarlet cheeks.

"I don't want to talk about it." His firm voice was tinged with embarrassment.

"That's alright." She sat forward again and appreciated the view. The jungle was black below, the sea beyond, a moving spectacle of grayish shades. The white moon ducked behind clouds and a breeze hinted again at rain.

"I was just confused, that's all. We were running and racing. Then you were pressed up against me and I wanted to feed Tiger Lily to Tick Tock because I thought she would hurt you."

Wendy's eyes widened.

The boards creaked beside her. "Not to mention what happened next."

She felt her entire face plunge into a blush.

"And…I didn't mind that part." His voice tickled her ear.

Her hands flew to cover her face. How scandalous the entire thing had turned out! And she sat in her shift next to him. "I was just so angry at her." Wendy talked through her hands. "She will never give you up."

"What does that mean?" Peter's arm pressed into her side.

She lowered her hands but kept her eyes on the water. "She loves you, Peter. She will not share you with me."

"Ha!"

"It is not funny. She will try to win your heart. And she will make my life here miserable." Wendy's head tipped sideways until it rested against his. "There will be no peace with a warrior princess who's prize possession is Peter Pan."

"I will not be owned. No one tells Peter Pan what to do." If she didn't know any better, she could almost swear that he inhaled the smell of her hair.

Wendy chuckled. "My dear Peter. Someday, you will have to listen to someone else and do what they tell you to do. It is part of growing up."

"I don't mind if you tell me what to do, Wendy. I grew up for you."

She looked down at his thigh, which had crept closer and nearly touched her own. "Even I would never try to tell the great Peter Pan what to do. Although you may have to wash behind your ears a bit better."

He smiled into her shoulder. "You do know that there is only one way we can resolve this problem, don't you?"

"Do tell." A fat raindrop plopped onto the top of her head.

"We must get married."


	12. Chapter 12

"I…I don't think you know what that means, Peter."

"I'm never wrong."

"But, Peter…" Wendy held her shawl so tightly that her fingers started to tingle. "I don't mean to say that you are wrong. But I believe you don't know what exactly marriage involves." Now she'd done it. She didn't have any way to escape this explanation.

He sniffed. "Tell me, then."

"Well, first…" She looked at the blackness below. Oh dear, this was going to be awkward. "We cannot get married without a priest." Yes! That would slow him down.

"I know that is not true, Wendy." He leaned forward in the darkness, his words kissing her earlobe. "Even your stories said that captains can marry people."

Wendy swallowed hard. "But Hook is dead!"

"I'll have to bribe Captain Smee, then."

"Captain Smee?" That peculiar, ancient man had become captain? She scrambled to think of another block.

Peter leaned back once more. "That old fart took over after Tick Tock ate Hook." He snorted. "The mermaids said Hook's hook gave Tick a raging upset stomach."

"Then he probably doesn't know the right words for the ceremony, since he's a new captain."

"Nonsense!" Peter jumped to his feet, the boards bucking under Wendy's seat. "You can give him the words. You've said it and stories and have been to weddings before."

Wendy tried to sit very still. This was all happening so very quickly. She wanted to be excited, but the thought of marrying Peter Pan frightened her because of a long, buried memory. "A long time ago, you said something to me. I'm not sure if we could ever be married because of it."

"Alright. What is it? I'm sure I can fix it." Although she couldn't see him, she was sure Peter's eyebrows pulled down, trying to remember what he had said.

"Love. Even the sound of the word offends you."

The nighttime sounds of Neverland came alive, yet Peter remained silent, unmoving.

"And Peter, marriage must have love." Wendy took a shaky breath in, held it and released a measured sigh. "It was why I called to you that night at the window. I couldn't bring myself to marry Mr. Fitzsimmons."

"Because you don't love him?" Peter whispered.

"He has the finances my parents need to secure their future. And the future of my brothers." Wendy's voice faded into the darkness and she swallowed hard. What would happen to the Darlings without her? Father had grown more sullen as the years passed.

Wendy only learned about the financial strain a year ago, when she'd passed her parents' room on the way to the toilet and heard Father's bark. "Well, I have no way to remedy it this time. We will lose everything, including the house." She'd heard enough friends' scuttlebutt to know that tiny details weren't necessary. Any marriage her parents arranged would be for the good of the family.

Peter eased his body down beside her. "I have treasure. We can take it back to your family so they can be rich."

"But you've said it yourself, that adults are not meant to leave Neverland and return. Your crash landing with me proved that." The side of her mouth turned up.

"True." In the moonlight, Wendy watched as Peter stroked his bare chin, like an old grandfather contemplating wisdom to dispense. "Hook had to have passed over. I bet it's how he found his crew."

"I'd never thought of that." She shifted to face him. "Do you think Smee would know the secret?"

He gazed toward the sea. "Dunno. Maybe Hook kept it in a book."

A pregnant silence settled between the pair, broken by the Neverland nocturnal creatures. Wendy's eyelids sagged and she tried to stifle a yawn.

"I don't think that word offends me anymore."

Wendy suddenly was wide awake once more. "Go on."

"I used to always want to be a boy and have fun. Now, I'm grown up, but still want to have fun. Is love fun?"

"It certainly can be." Wendy thought of the times, when she was younger, and her parents would sing in the parlor together. Father would gaze at Mother so intently that Mother would blush a pretty shade of pink. Or the times they would steal a kiss when they thought the children weren't looking.

Peter's skin was nearly blue from the moon. He pulled at the nonexistent beard again. "I do enjoy your thimbles. And married people give each other lots of thimbles, right?" His head swiveled to Wendy, their noses nearly colliding.

"Oh, the cleverness of you," she breathed. Wendy was tempted to lean in and give him a thimble-kiss right then and there.

Dawn's early light spilled into the bright night. Peter's eyes bounced all over Wendy's face, taking in her hair, eyes, resting on her lips. His face screwed into determination. "So we've got to bribe Smee to marry us. Send treasure to your family. Not be offended by love. Give thimbles to each other often. Is that all of it?" He ticked off each point on his fingers.

Wendy blanched. There was no way she would explain anything of the personal nature to her future husband. "Yes. I believe that is it," she choked.

"Good…"

"No, wait!" She grabbed his wrist. "A ring. You must give me a ring to wear to show everyone we are married."

"What kind of ring? I'm sure the mermaids have loads of them. I'll ask for one."

The sun peeked over the mountains. Wendy saw why Peter rubbed his face—red stubble had broken through his smooth skin. She reached up to touch it. "You have to pick a ring for me. I don't pick it. But hopefully it is one that makes you think of me when you see it." She dropped her hand and watched the first rays stretch across the jungle below.

"I can do that. Easy."

"Peter? Might I ask if you can take me back to the hideout for a nap? I'm terribly exhausted." She eased her tired body up, clutching the shawl. Her nightgown seemed entirely transparent the way he looked at her.

He grinned a Peter Pan smile, slanted and mischievous. "Not today." He turned to the enormous tree trunk and shimmied up some branches. "Today, you will be a bird," he called down through the leaves. "You will sleep in your nest, high above the ground, where nothing can disturb you." Grunting, his foot, then leg, reappeared.

Wendy admired his muscular calf. "My nest?"

A bundle of blankets and furs dropped onto the platform just before Peter thudded to the boards. He busied himself, arranged the menagerie near the tree, between two branches as big around as a horse's body. When satisfied, he stepped back with a flourish. "Your nest!"

Exhausted, she shimmied between the layers, sleep pulling at her eyelids. "Thank you." Wendy scooted close to the tree, a thought nagging her grown up mind. "How will I keep from falling out of the tree?"

"I would never let you."

Her eyelids pried open as he knelt on the corner of her bed. "Peter! You…you cannot sleep with me." Her body, frigid from the Neverland evening, now radiated heat. She squirmed until her back pushed against the tree.

"Why not? There is only one bed."

"We are not married."

His eyebrows burrowed together. "We are going to be. Besides, I've done it loads of times with the Boys."

"I am _not_ a boy." Wendy's cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Peter scootched into the furs. "I know that. You're my Wendy Bird."

They faced each other in the nest, high above Neverland. Wendy pulled both arms in front of her chest, pulling her shawl into a protective cocoon. "Just this once. And you must stay over there."

He peeled down the blanket so she could watch as he crossed his heart.

"Goodnight, Peter." She could smell him. And it made her body and brain want to cling to him, like she'd done in the lake. Instead, she closed her eyes, even as he stared.

"Good day, Wendy."

Caught between awake and sleep, she wasn't sure if it was a dream or he'd kissed her forehead.


	13. Chapter 13

Wendy could smell the chocolate cake in the oven. Michael streaked by, shirtless, in his trousers and his headdress, whooping at an imaginary pirate. John has his feet propped onto the ottoman, glasses low on his nose and completely lost in his book. Nana raised her head to watch Michael circle the dining room table twice before returning to her nap. Windchimes tinkled through the open window.

As she pulled the cake out, Michael caught her elbow on his circuit. She spun and the cake disappeared. "Michael!" she cried, her body continuing to twist round and round and round. Wendy closed her eyes, dizzy and unable to stop. "John, help me!"

Her body jerked to a stop when someone yanked the tender hair near her forehead. "Ow!" Where was the cake? The tiny windchimes seemed to resonate at her ears. Someone jerked her hair again? "Stop!"

On the third tug, Wendy's eyes snapped open. The jingling, glittery fairy let go of her hair. Wendy rubbed her sore temple. "Tink. What a rude way to wake me. You would not like if I pulled your hair."

Beyond the fairy at her head, Wendy noticed Peter was absent. Maybe he'd gone to find her a ring.

Tinkerbell flitted into the air, motioning for Wendy to emerge from her nest. Reluctantly, Wendy obeyed, crawling onto the wooden platform.

Neverland, now bright under the high sun, stretched below her, green and lush. From the large, twin rocks in the bay before her, Wendy knew she was somewhere near Mermaid Lagoon—those lovely creatures who wanted to drown her, but adored Peter.

Her stomach rolled and gurgled. She would do anything for a slice of the dream chocolate cake. "Is there any food, Tink?" The fairy shook her head. "Well, then, I'll have to climb down and find some."

Winded from the long descent, Wendy caught her breath once her toes touched the moss. "Did Peter send you to keep track of me?"

Tink rolled her eyes and nodded. She zipped down a small trail and doubled back, signaling for Wendy to follow. Though little beads of sweat collected on her brow, Wendy walked with her shawl crossed over the flimsy undergarment, silently regretting her state of dress.

"You were right, you know."

Wendy flinched, taken off guard by Peter's drifting words. She craned her head to peer into the jungle, suddenly aware that her guide had disappeared. "I was?" Nothing gave away his location, his sounds echoing into the Neverland leaves.

"You asked me if I had felt something, long ago."

Her breath caught as she followed his voice.

High above the path, in the skeleton of a dead tree, Peter stood high on a branch, his naked arms draped above his head on another bough. He watched her from his perch, the sun breaking through the leaves to make the tips of his red hair glow like warm embers. "I have felt…love."

Wendy backed until she met with a solid tree trunk, eyes never leaving the boy in the trees, in case he disappeared like her dream cake. She slid down, resting her chin onto her knees, preferring to sit instead of swooning, for she certainly wanted to faint at Peter's admission. Surely she would wake, Fitzsimmons' ring wrapped around her finger. Cocooned in her shawl, she clasped her hands round her knees.

She watched as he worked his way closer, shimmying down the tree, branch by branch, one calloused foot in front of the other on the dirt, until his muscled calf was within reach. His toenails were broken and dirty. The frayed edges of his baggy cut-off pants hung just below his knees. Wendy didn't dare look up to his exposed chest. Her cheeks already burned with equal parts of embarrassment and...no. She stuffed her lust back into propriety. It wouldn't do to act wantonly.

Wendy pushed a tangled piece of hair behind her ear. She probably looked frightful, hair unbrushed, in dirty undergarments, but squared her shoulders. "How do you know you felt love?"

"Is part of being married telling one another everything?"

His sudden change of topic caught Wendy off guard. She craned her head up. Oh dear. She needed to keep her eyes on his or she would forget herself. "Not everything, but most things, yes." Certainly, he did _not_ need to hear about her monthly dealings. Or how much she longed for a bathroom.

Peter squatted. He studied her face. "Love feels like a fire...or being underwater too long."

Something squeezed inside Wendy's ribcage and her hand flew to cover her heart. How many nights had she dreamed of flying with Peter again? Imagined sword fights where more than blades kissed. And now he was before her, describing love. "Like drowning?"

"When you stayed behind and I left before, I was mad that you chose them instead of me."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. So many times, she'd cursed her decision. "Oh, Peter," she breathed.

He sat, his bare toes pushed against hers. "Then I was sad you weren't here. I remembered your stories and your thimble. And when we watched the fairies." His right hand cautiously moved forward to brush hers. "No matter how hard I tried to forget you, I couldn't. And then I didn't want to. So I would come at night, to make sure you didn't see me."

"Why didn't you wake me?" She could've had years with him already. "Had I offended you?"

Peter wagged his head. "No. But I didn't want you to think I'd changed my mind. Peter Pan doesn't change his mind."

"A pity."

"Why's that?"

Wendy shrugged. "It is the simplest of mistakes that can bring a lifetime of heartache." She thought about the night Peter had left years ago. She rued the moment she agreed to marry Fitzsimmons, even with the promise of security. And the bad investments her father made. A wink of memory, when she'd agreed to leave Peter and the Lost Boys, to become a pirate. "But when you say you are wrong, when you ask for an apology..." Her words faded at the thought of Father on his knees in the parlor last year, begging Mother for forgiveness and the heated kisses that followed. She was never meant to see it, but the image had blossomed into a fantasy of her own with the young man before her.

"What?" Peter rocked forward, both hands now resting on her kneecaps. "When you ask for an apology, what happens?"

"It..." She scrambled for an answer other than kissing, though it was the response she wanted. The shame. "It gives you the opportunity to make things right." Yes, very good.

A spark of the boy inside squared Peter's chin. "Well I want to apologize and make things right." There were flecks of gold in those hazel eyes and his lips were chapped.

"For what?"

"I should've taken you back to Neverland that very night."

She shook her head. "We can't changed what happened."

Peter stared intently, yet Wendy didn't mind. She counted the freckles across the bridge of his nose and saw the crease in his cheek where his dimple hid. Her hand drifted up to chafe the stubble on his chin and she smiled.

He leaned forward, over her knees. "I apologize." His breath warmed her lips. "How do I make things right?"

Wendy's pulse spiked and she felt light-headed. No, she would not give into temptation, no matter the way his lips now brushed the tip of her nose. Then her cheek. And the corner of her mouth.

"Wendy?"

Her eyes opened. She hadn't even realized they were closed. "Yes," she whispered.

"I have felt love. It doesn't offend me anymore. What more could there be?"

A very unladylike groan escaped her lips. "There is so much more."

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against her. "I think it becomes clearer when you grow up."

* * *

 _A big shout out to ShirleyAnn66 for helping me get past the writers block with a bit of chocolate cake! ~JS_


	14. Chapter 14

Hello lovelies! Just a quick note before takeoff...this little ditty is headed to its conclusion soon. Considering it was supposed to be a one-shot, I'm okay with that. ;) And I'm not going to apologize for the time it's taken to get this story finished. Real life sometimes gets in the way. Be patient, anonymous reviewers who demand an update.

Where were we? Yes, right here...

* * *

She worried. When Peter was gone, she wondered where he was-off without a word and back before dark. Wendy fiddled with unimportant things when he was in the hideout, rearranging the kitchen or the trying to keep the Boys from stamping in the dirt. Where would he disappear to in the day, without so much as an invitation for her to come along? Had Tiger Lily captivated his gaze? And for days, her tortured mind teased the worst.

"How was your day," she would ask the moment he dropped onto the wooden bench at the table.

"Oh, it was fine," he would reply, no hint as to his whereabouts or actions for the day.

On the fourth day after Peter had brought her home from her nest, Wendy could not, no-would not, stay cooped up for another moment. She waited for him to ask her to join him and was not impressed with his chaste kiss to her cheek, despite the tittering giggles from the Boys. Peter swung up out of the door and disappeared. Wendy waited half a minute before gathering a knife from the wall into her waistband. How odd the blade looked against the tattered her threadbare dress. She could be reclining in comfort, but looked to the grubby, small trio before her.

"Boys?"

"Yes, Mother?" They stretched their necks tall.

"We are going on an adventure today!" She pitched her voice up and clapped her hands. Wendy had to make them believe it was an adventure, not a spying expedition.

Bean gathered his slingshot and pouch of stones. Squish slung a bow and quiver across his back. Boo wielded his wooden sword.

"Away we go, my boys!"

They tromped through the forest, noisy feet and movements. Maybe Peter could hear them and would come. But he did not.

Wendy knew where she wanted to head for answers, but didn't know which direction. "Which one of you can get us to Captain Smee?"

"Why would we go see that hump-a-lump-a blubber?" Bean's face scrunched together.

This would not do. They needed...motivation. "If you can get me to Captain Smee before lunchtime, you will not have to scrub behind your ears before bed AND I'll tickle your backs when it is time to sleep." The Boys loved when she ghosted her nails across their brown backs, twisting and shuddering as the goosebumps raced down their arms, then legs.

With whoops of joy, the trio tore down a path, doubling back to make sure Mother had not lost her way. Although she tried to keep track of the turns, Wendy was utterly lost, completely dependent on the scampering boys who occasionally stopped to plop a mushroom into their mouths or argue about the quickest route.

"We should stop by the Lagoon first." Squish shot an arrow into the trunk of an innocent tree.

Boo swung at an invisible target. "He never goes there!"

"Skull Rock first," declared Bean, with an air of finality. "He hasn't left there in a long, long time."

Somewhere down a trail, as Wendy hiked her skirt over her knees to pass over a decaying log, Boo's lithe hand snaked into hers.

"Mother," he whispered, "Why do you need to go see Captain Smee? Peter doesn't know where we've gone."

* * *

Under John's top hat, Peter's haggard face tilted up from the table of the Captain's cabin. Even by the fading light, his eyes looked painfully bloodshot. "Wendy," he breathed, pushing his weight up from the chair with his arms.

"I...I'm sorry to disturb you." She'd come to find Hook's old books herself. "I had no idea you'd be here."

"Of course I have." Through the crack of exhaustion, his cockiness shone bright. "I needed to find something out."

"Oh? What were you looking for? Maybe I could help." Gone was her mission to find how to out how Hook traveled between both worlds. If Peter wasn't going to return any wealth to her family after she abandoned them, she would do it herself...later.

Peter's cheeks turned a brilliant pink and his words tumbled out in quick succession. "I've already found it, thank you."

"If you've found it, what were you reading?" Wendy advanced a step before he slapped the cover shut.

"Nothing."

"You are being difficult. Just show me."

His chin lifted. "Peter Pan doesn't have to show anything to anyone."

"Peter Pan certainly does if Peter Pan still plans on marrying Wendy Darling." She shoved her hands to her hips, pronouncing his name like a curse.

Shoulders drooping, Peter's chin dropped to his bare chest. He rolled his head back and forth, eyes closed. "I'm trying to learn how to become a proper husband."

The shock of his words made Wendy's snappish attitude melt away. "Peter," she whispered, moving to touch his elbow. "I had no idea. I just...you've left us alone for days now. I didn't know if you'd changed your mind or...maybe...gone to visit...Tiger Lily." The last two words nearly stuck in her throat. She felt so foolish.

He chuckled low in his chest. Dirty fingers traced the worn corners of the book before stilling. "She's got nothing on you. You're the girl from the window. Red-Handed Jill. My Wendy Bird." His thumb rose to stroke the inside of her wrist. "Why are you looking for?"

"Besides you?" She glanced to the book on the table. Wendy made out the word _LOVE_ in scrolling calligraphy before Peter flipped it over. "I'd hoped to find a way to travel back to give my family a comfortable living."

"Oh that little thing? Smee told me that days ago."

"Yet here I am because I've been left at the hideout for days."

Behind them, through the door, miniature feet scrambled across the deck before Smee's muffled yells chased them. Peter looked at the door over Wendy's shoulder. "I've been trying to make it perfect."

Wendy crouched next to the table, her skirt pooling around her ankles. "To make what perfect?"

When Peter finally tore his gaze from the door and looked at Wendy, she was grateful to be near to the floor, for her heart started stammering. Or maybe it stopped. "I'm not very good at this," he finally offered, his head dipping towards hers.

Though she tried, Wendy could not keep her eyes open when their lips met. She leaned forward, her blind hands moving with her body until they snaked around his neck. Deep inside, something horrid yet perfectly wonderful prodded her on. When she finally broke for a gasp of air, Wendy breathed his name. Their foreheads tipped together and she chose to keep her eyes closed, in case the moment was spoiled. "I'd say you are much improved."

Even with her eyes closed, she felt Peter's smile and cracked her eyelids open in time to watch his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Not that," he rasped. "Though I think I'll get better with more practice."

Wendy dropped her head, if only to hide her smile. Truly, her lack of embarrassment was shocking. She didn't try to stop looking further down his chest, following the lines of his muscles, to the dips where his hips disappeared into the waistband.

"But we will have adventures, right?" Peter Pan's voice sounded very small at that moment.

Wendy looked up, their noses nearly touching. "Ever so many."

His eyes bounced between hers. "And you love me?"

"As long as I can remember."

He grin tipped sideways. "I've hypnotized you."

Wendy smiled back, her lips moving agonizingly close to his. "Oh, but I think you have it backwards, Peter." She reached and pulled John's hat from Peter's head.

"This grown-up stuff. It's harder than I thought it'd be."

She simply nodded, remembering, aching for the innocence of being thirteen again. Wendy leaned forward until her lips grazed his earlobe. "Forget them, Peter."

Peter held his breath.

"Forget them all. Come with me where we'll always do grown-up things together."


	15. Chapter 15

"So let's go get married now." Peter swept his arm out towards the ship deck.

* * *

Captain Smee, nervous and sweaty, uttered, "Man and wife."

Wendy's looked at Peter, who glanced first at the Captain and then back to his wife. "You must kiss me now," she prompted quietly.

"I know." Peter edged forward, like a wooden soldier. His eyes were fixated on her…chin.

She waited and squeezed his hand. This would take an hour at the rate he was going. Something needed to be done. Wendy crooked her free hand around his neck and she kissed him square on the lips.

Peter didn't move an inch, his eyes still open when Wendy closed hers. His lips were as rigid as his shoulders.

Wendy held her lips against her husband's far longer than proper, but just until they stirred. When she tipped back her head, to the enthusiastic clapping of the pirate crew and disgusted groans of the Boys, Peter finally looked into her eyes.

"It wasn't so bad, was it?" she whispered. While far from the kiss she'd given him in the lake, her belly still writhed. She was married to Peter Pan.

His eyes smiled before his lips caught up. "Not bad at all."

And it was only then that Wendy noticed they floated up and beyond the mast.

* * *

It had been a day, but it may have been a month as far as Wendy was concerned. Peter traipsed with her through Neverland, happily announcing to everyone they met that he was married, with a slap to her shoulder as an introduction. But Wendy felt more like a Lost Boy than a wife, right down to sleeping in a hollow while Peter slept in the crook of the tree above the second night after their wedding.

She sniffed her tears back.

"Are you alright?"

She hadn't even heard him drop from the tree. Swiping her nose, Wendy cleared her throat. "I will be."

"You must be cold. I'll start a fire."

Rather than disagree, Wendy sat up and waited for Peter to build a small fire between them. The shadows played havoc on her emotions. She thought he understood marriage. She thought he knew what it meant. She thought he was…in love.

"Have I done something wrong, Peter?"

"Why do you say that?"

She hesitated. This was harder to admit out loud than hearing it over and over in her mind. "You haven't kissed me since yesterday. And…I'm wondering if you regret marrying me."

"I do not." Even in the firelight, she saw color flood his cheeks.

"Then what have I done?"

"Nothing," he barked.

"I don't understand why…"

"I don't know how to do this and Peter Pan does everything and does everything right!" His admission bounced though the leaves and disappeared into the night. A ginger curl loosened across his forehead when he looked to the fire.

Slowly, quietly, Wendy moved from her spot across the fire to sit next to him. She curled her arm around his, while he picked apart a leaf, and leaned her head onto his shoulder. The crackle and pop of the embers quieted her doubts. Peter Pan, master of the Neverland winds, father to the Lost Boys, and her husband, was worried he would fail. She couldn't help but smile.

"What's so funny?" He was grumpy and jabbed a stick into the dirt with his free hand.

She lifted her head and gazed at the freckles on his cheek. The poor man. "Peter, you should just quit fretting about it."

He looked at her, their noses nearly touching. "I can't," he whispered. "It's all I think about."

When he leaned into her lips, she neatly collided with his, warmed from head to toe from the inside out. Peter's arm unwound from hers and hauled her closer. Somewhere along the line, his stick was forgotten and he held her head until they parted, panting.

Wendy's eyebrow tugged upwards. "I think you have been thinking an awful lot."

"Oh, the cleverness of me."

* * *

Thanks for staying and reading my one-shot gone wild! ~JS


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